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Class _P^^Ji^£:^ 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr 



BARHAM BEACH 

A Poem of Regeneration 

By 

JULIA DITTO YOUNG. 



A stainless gentleman, 
Who never yet hath uttered any word 
Less whitely true than what the angels breathe 
Nighest the throne. 



May 16th, 1908. 



IwoCuDlu llecei.% { 

JUN 16 1908 

OOfy a. I 






1^0 



Entered according to act of Congrese 
in tlie year 1908, by Ijniirence Ditto 
Young, in the office of tlie Librarian 
of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 



Entered at Stationers' Hall. 



All rights reserved 



Photographs by H. Wilson Saunders 



Printed and bound by 

Floyd-Genthner Press, 

Buffalo, New York. 



Author's Notes. 



"June, 1895. 
"At my home, 391 Bouek Avenue, Buffalo, May 1st, 
1895, was begun Barham Beach. It was not written 
quite with the headlong speed of its predecessors, the 
first rough draft not being completed till June 10th. 
The first and only MS. was fini.shed June 20th at The 
Nest, Mrs. Lavinia M. Oberst's cottage at Crystal 
Beach, Canada, and was the next day sent over to the 
city for the inspection of Mr. William Mcintosh, Editor 
of the Evening News, who is our valued friend and 
adviser. The poem contains 1,998 lines in nineteen 
parts; no two consecutive parts are in the same form 
or meter. The writing of Barham Beach was through- 
out an unmixed delight." 



April, 1908. 
During the thirteen years which have elapsed since 
the following pages were written, they were preserved 
in the Erie County Savings Bank, Buffalo, N. Y., and 
in the First National Bank of Caledonia, Livingston 
County, New York, at the home of Francis and Eliza 
Blakeslee. 



Of the first edition of Barham Beach there 
were 1000 books printed, and this is Copy 
Number 



^^3 




)uuAl^ )^AyVlo 






y 


HI 1 n 


1 ' 



TO LAURIE. 



Works by Mrs. Young. 



Adrift, A Story of Niagara : A Novel. 

Dedicated to William Dean Howells. 

A very taking story. The descriptions of the falls 
and river of Niagai'a are not less fascinating than the 
human interest of the book. — Albany Journal. 

Thistle Down : Poems. 

Dedicated to Margaret McKenna Ditto. 

We wonder if this poet had in mind the Galatea 
of Theocritus wlien slie wrote Thistle Down? Her 
verses have the trembling, airy grace we see in harls 
and gossamers. Some of the jiieces have the quality of 
genius. — Maurice Thompson in The Independent. 

Glynne's Wife : A Novelette in Verse. 
Dedicated to Robert D. Young. 

Probably the rarest of all the Roycroft publica- 
tions. — New York Times. 

It is said the author felt the romance and pathos 
of Mr. Vanderbilt's waiting on his yacht "Valiant" 
for the news of Mrs. Vanderbilt's marriage to Mr. 
Belmont, and out of that incident the charming fiction 
grew. The story is of very unusual merit from every 
standpoint, and one in which the powers of the poet, 
the novelist, and the moralist are singularly combined. 
— A. Jeffrey in Brooklyn Citizen. 

These lines have the genuine Byronic flavor, and 
are in places as voluptuous of color and form as Keats. 
— Walter Storrs Bigelow in Boston Transcript. 



The Story of Saville : Told in Numbers. 

Done into a book at the Roycroft Printing Shop 
which is in East Aurora, opposite the sign of the Black 
Bull. Dedicated to Thomas Hardy. 

A glittering, mu.sieal, beautiful poem. — Arthur W. 
Austin in Buflalo Commercial. 

A romance woven with heart-breaking skill. — Kate 
Burr in Buffalo Times. 

Black Evan, A Tale of the *45 : In Verse. 

Dedicated to All Whose Hearts Thrill at Highland 
Song or Story, and More Particularly to the St. An- 
drew's Scottish Society of Buffalo. 

She sings, like Virgil, of things divine, love, chivalry, 
and God.— Rov. J. E. McGrath. 

The first .stanzas are a magnificent painting of gold, 
crimson, and amethyst, and the tale matches the bril- 
liancy of autumn in its gorgeous phraseology and royal 
splendor of word and tliought. — Esther Chaddock 
Davenport. 

Mrs. Young is the legitimate successor of Owen 
Meredith.— Mark S. Hubbell, in "Truth." 



Extract From Letter. 



Mount Kiseo, New York. 
July 13th, 1895. 
Barbara Beach will give you a place in English Liter- 
ature in the line of the worthies of the centuries who 
have written immortal words, words which the world 
will not let die until the world itself dies and goes 
darkling out in space, a perished planet. 

MARGARET EMMA DITTO. 




BLAKESLEE HOUSE. 



CONTENTS 



Plage 
Part I — city, ruined city! was it lightning's 

levin-brand 19 

Tart II — Sea and land were one gigantic flower.. 25 

Part III — She's coming ! 0, she's coming ! 31 

Part IV — Blue-eyed the boy was 35 

Part V — When simple maid or stately matron, 

Dowsabel or Dame 41 

Part VI — It was eve,^ 'twas the hour when the 

Angelus, ringing 47 

Part VII — And the dream lingered still when the 

gibbous red arc 55 

Part VIII — Beside the silver sea they sat at eve. . . 61 
Part IX — No minion of justice intrenched, no plu- 
tocrat's tool was he 71 

Part X — Not all unbroken was the summer's rest. 81 

Part XI — However equably one may support 87 

Part XII — When soft the midnight brooded on the 

sea 93 

Part XIII— 'Twas a September midnight 101 

Part XIV — 'Twas a gray morn — Alack and well- 

a-day ! 107 

Part XV — If there is in the turmoil chaotic and 

drear 113 

Part XVI — They paced the beach at eve 119 

Part XVII — A long, long silence followed; Theo- 
dore 125 

Part XVIII— For the last time of many times 133 

Part XIX — -lie rode with bent head 141 



BARHAM BEACH 



I 



Barham Beach 



(^ CITY, ruined city! Was it lightning's levin-brand 

That flashed in i'ury through thy streets, thy fanes and 

forum grand, 
Cr did a prisoned Titan writhe in cataclysmic throe 
And shatter all thy rainbow towers and lay thy glory low, 
Or was thy fall the rotton fruit of some mad devil's spite 
"Who helped man's work a hundred years, to spoil it in a 

night ? 
Fair city, wretched city! In that thou wert more fair 
Than all thy sisters, so thy wretchedness is past compare, 
For Oh ! to see the altar-steps that holy men have trod, 
The chiseled marble erst a spire pure pointing up to God, 
The groined arch once thrilling to Euterpe's silver tones, 
The bench which Themis' terror made the kingliest of 

thrones, 
The hearthstone, jewel of the home, the core of fire and food. 
All, all inextricable prey of keen vicissitude. 
All warped from kindly human use of pleasure and of gain, 
A corpse imburied, festering beneath the sun and rain! 



hillside, gentle hillside ! Ere America began 
To be a nation merrily the fleet red children ran 
Athwart thy grassy gilded slopes, or lay in placid rest 
Sucking new sustenance from thee, the Mother's generous 
breast, 



20 BAiniAM BKACU. 

Ami in this Inn^uid Inter (l;iy wo too, yos, ovon wo, 
Poor fjiiiitiiiu: ;itoms, ol'l Iimvo dniwii Aiitivus like from tlioo 
Nt>w stroiiiitli, a nioiiu'iit 's iloetini:; joy, a faith to IVol again 
That ilo who fashioiiod llu'o so fair lialh ahso I'nshiouod 

moil. 
And tiiat, () o\orh-istin,c: hill! h^nc: as tliysolf should stand 
Seouro, so also men woit> sal'o in tho liolhnv ol' His liand, — 
Hut now, tho horror! K'od and ront art thou from base to 

orown, 
'I'iiy scarpod craiis and mossy dolls alike have Inirtloil down. 
And tliin,c:s unuamod and slimy, things (hat Nature lu\th 

forbid 
To seek the liijlit, oroop blindly out from secret erypts long 

hid. 
Unlovely noisome efts and newts and sad bewildered 

gnomes, 
Lnmontini; with a ijianfs wo(> thoii- little ravislu^l homes, 
And tiny turbid rills steal forth and brownly to tho ]ilain 
Kun sobbing, striving with their tears to wasb away tho 

slain. — 
O high sweet hill! thou Tu>bl(>st type of luMuty and of foroe, 
Alas! that tlnni shiuildst bar in vain the dread voleanie 

oourse 
Of — No, there is no name belits that dark mysterious Power 
AVhioli we eall Fate when brokenly beneath its wheels wo 

eower. 
And when beyond the bolehing elonds our trembling hearts 

can trneo 
Only a lifted angry band and thunderous dim faee, — 
'Tis otherwMse we name that Power when harpstrings pulse 

and ])lny 
For us, when for our eager hearts bloometh the rose of 

May, 



ii.\i;ii.\M iii:.\('ii. 21 

Wlirii joy enfolds iis, wln'ii a soul .spriii/^s in I he worl lil(!S,s 

clod, — 
All, Iticii in liiippy reverence we name liial I'dwi-r (Jixl! 



Aud yet, O city devastate, () ;;real (lislmndicd (|neen, 

A lucent lake siiall lap at last thy limlis in liii-(|ii()ise slieen, 

And tliou, () naiuiitain ^.^aslied and ^oicd, Iml patiently 

await 
Time's touch and lliou shall lie adorned as a hride is J'or 

her mate, — 
But when a livinj^ soul endures such agony as this, 
When in life's sinilin;;; rosy ])atli there yawns a black abyss. 
And when the wliole fair fal)rie hath bcien sec^thed in roar- 
ing flame 
An<l earthcjuake terrors, pan^s of hell and ineri(e<l foid 

shame, 
\\ iial vine shall deck the framework ;<auid, what elin^^inj^ 

tender moss 
Shall hide the desolation and veil o'ei' Ww. scar and loss, 
Ami whence shall How the cleansing wave, the healing in 

land sea 
'Neath wlios*; blue joy tlu; hideous past shall sweetly 

shrouded be? 



i 



II 



n. 

CKA .-111(1 Inriil \vci-(' OIK! gigantic llnwcr, 

Lying not at rost 

On Tollus' lawny breast, 
Ikit palpitantly tlirilling to tlio jjower 

01" liicltlen [ires tliat ever outward pressed, — 
Pausy purple gloomed tiio I'ar horizon, 

Nearer billows grew 

Myosotis blue, 
A million dancing 9))arkIos did bedizen 

The liipiid petals as wilii morning dew, — 
Stamen-slim and white the waves were eris]iing 

All along the beach 

In a yearning reach, 
And ever was their innocent low lisping 

As are rose-rev(n'i(!S folded eacli in each, — 
All the sand was but as pollen goldcsn. 

Mealy, warm and sweet, 

ISeeming as it beat 
Heartlike, as within its grains wore holden 

Vivifying pulse and rnicliuinl hent, — 
Tangled juniper and cooling moss(!s 

Fringed the sea-bloom's rim, — 

Hemlocks giant-grim 
And stark cedar's graveyard shafts aii<l crossej) 

(lilt the flower with elionecl gr-eeniiess dirn, — 
And O! the tribute free and aromatic 

These loyal vassals lling 

To their sun and king I — 
Never comes a moment so ecstatic 

As first breath of l)alsani in (he spring! 



26 BARIJAM BEACH. 

Listen, mortal ! Thou shalt learn for asking 

Silent secret way 

Thou mayst make assay 
Of thy soul's estate: Lie idly basking 

Near the pines some golden summer day, 
Where thou hast a season put behind thee 

Life and all its jars, 

"Where the branchy bars 
Shake the scent from needle tufts that mind thee 

Of the scarcely finer thistle stars. 
Where the little laughing waves are curling 

Flakily and sweet 

To thy tired feet. 
Salt and strength and sim commingled, swirling 

Round the brain where bati'led currents meet,— 
If thou fiudst not then renewing, healing, 

Joy of balm and brine. 

Vigor as of wine. 
Foes too long thy forces have been stealing, — 

Thou'rt already dead as Wallenstein! 



Even such assay as this was making 

On a glowing day 

Midst of merry May, 
For the waves on Barham Beach were breaking 

At the feet of one who listless lay. 
Unto whom the sapphire sea was leaden, 

Sodden as with tears. 

Gray with heavy years, 
Whose sick heart beat loud enough to deaden 

All the mirth and music of the spheres ; 
Vain it seemed, great Nature's kind assuaging,- 

Wearily she smiled 



BAEHAM BEACn. 27 

On a little child 
Who 'gainst self a mimic war was waging 

From the forts and oastles he had piled, — 
Bitterly she smiled, ironic musing 

How herself had planned 

Citadels of sand, — 
Gloried in their snowy height, refusing 

Credence of the precipice they spanned, — 
Ah, she saw too surely now how fleeting, 

Insubstantial, vain, 

Frostwork on the pane, 
All her joy had been, mere toys, mere cheating, 

False mirage of vapid heart and brain, — 
Life, the fairy, feigned to love, and gave her 

Treasures manifold. 

Gifts of seeming gold, — 
Now she saw how brittle was the favor, — 

Sad sere leaves were all she had to hold. 



Presently the boy, of pastime tiring. 

And of war's mishap. 

Crept into her lap, — 
Languidly she hushed the child, desiring 

Not to rend the silence' silken wrap; 
Yet she sang at last — it was her duty — 

All she lived for now — 

Just the learning how 
Shallops sail when fathoms deep is Beauty, 

Pleasure's lying slaughtered in the prow,- 
Slow she sang a song of April's weaving. 

Sang it softly o'er 

Since its burden bore 
Somewhat of her anguish in perceiving 

June was gliding onward as of yore. 



Ill 



III. 

TUNE is cominj;:, — (), she's coming! I glimpse upon the 

-^ hill 

The flutter of her rosy robes, I hear the rapture-rill 

That bubbles from her laughing lips, I breathe the bloomy 

air 
The happy breeze hath stolen from her tangled amber hair. 



Oh, hasten, hasten, some of you! go forth and lead her 
round,' — 

Let her not come this way and see the blood upon the 
ground. 

Let not her fleckless dew-drenched feet, all violet-dripping, 
run 

Across this black polluted spot where murder hath been 
done! 

Tt is not fit that we should meet, — I could not bear her eyes, 

Wherein the joyous tenderness would film with sad sur- 
prise 

And wistful sorry questioning if I were verily 

The same who hitherto hath shared her innocence and glee ! 



IV 



IV. 



RLUE-EYED the boy was, — scarcely had he spanned 

More years than dimpled Cupid doth possess, 
Almost a baby's was the tiny hand 

Laid on liis motlier's nook in soft caress; 
Vale-lilies are not purer Ukui the shell 

That cradled th(? fresh spirit yet more fair, 
Meet spirit young cherubic choirs to swell 

That sing above us in diviner air, — 
Ah, the faint blush of morning on the cheek, 

The rings of misty gold u]ion the brow. 
The bloom ineffable, the tints that speak 

Sadly of what we had but have not now, — 
Yea, twice have we possessed, to have ami liuld 

A few fleet years, this infanline sweet grace, 
In our own substance lirst, the cloudy gold 

Of curls, the snow and peach-bloom in the face; 
Our selves were nested once, safe, safe from harm. 

Changing, but waking joy for dreams of bliss. 
Our world a tender breast and cradling arm. 

Our heaven a laughing sweet Madonna-kiss; 
There is no visage scarred with miser-age. 

Foul with excesses, sodden-sour with wine. 
That was not once a fair imsullied page, 

Meef lalilature for gravings high and fine, — 
Ilast spoiled the canvas, painter? hast awry 

The inarble dinted, sculptor? blurred the white 
Pure vellum, scribe? Alas, 'tis vain to try 

Eetouching that which God could not make right! 



This beauty of the youngeyed cherubim 



36 BAREAM BEACH. 

A second time was ours, to be caressed, 
Nursed, all but worsliipped, in the distance dim 

When Love and God on earth were manifest, — 
Not stranger, deeper, was the awe and pride 

Pygmalion felt when first the senseless stone 
Glowing with intellect, soul-glorified. 

Breathed, moved, and lived, his own, his blessed own! — 
Than what we feel that hour a solemn voice, 

Cleaving the wilderness of fang and thorn, 
Bids, organ-deep yet clarion-clear, "Rejoice! 

Carol, for unto you a son is born!" 



Yet for mine own part, scarce an earthly sight 

• So wrings my heart, so fills it with despair, 

"With sad blind wanderings in a moonless night, 

As doth a baby, Betlilehem-purc and fair; 
Often I gaze and coldly turn away. 

Forcing the tears back, smothering a sigh, 
Only to hear the youthful mother say, 

"She loves not little ones, — I wonder why?" 
Ah me ! b'ather I love them overmuch ! 

Love sharpens so mine eyes I see beyond 
The golden present, see the fated touch. 

The black defiling stroke of evil's wand, 
See grinning Death inevitably wile 

The babe into his oozy loathsome den, — 
And after that how shall a woman smile, 

Or ever quite trust God in heaven again ? — 
Or if the cliild shall live I see the years 

Approach when she who now is queen shall sink 
Dethroned and crownless, and her Marah-tears 

Shall vital be to her as food and drink, — 
Or if these three dark Furies spare to smite — 



BAKHAM BEACH. 37 

Vice, Death, Estrangement — some ancestral strain 
Shall haply breed anew, and burn and bite. 

Curdling and wliipping into froth the brain. 



Yet I, perchance, lago-Iike, may be 

Too critical; our wretched planet shows 
No picture after all, so fair to see 

As this twined loveliness of bud and rose, — 
And even I must grant a thrill of joy 

Wavers across my heart like moimtain breeze 
Merely to contemplate the sleeping boy 

Rosily couched upon his mother's knees, 
And that young mother in her beauty's flowei-, 

An artist's idol, fancy-stellified, 
E'en such a being as the gods should dower 

With all of earth's and heaven's good allied. 



Yet such a pair do presuppose a third, — 

A child and mother form not a duet, 
But mere component trio-parts, unheard. 

Unknown, save when in triple sonauce met, — 
"Where then was he, the master and the king, 

The chief musician, he should complete 
The harmony, and make the pinewoods ring 

Unto the trembling of their lutestrings sweet? 
Why did the boy, half rousing in his sleep. 

Soft iterate his father's name in vain? 
Why did her face so work in anguish deep 

That blood, not tears, had best expressed her pain 
Why did he linger? Sure he must have felt 

Their need, and felt tlio luring golden day,' — 
Alas! their king in cringing horror dwelt, 

Shackled, dishonored, clad in felon's gray! 



? 



V 



Vi/'IIEN siiiiiilc maid or stately inatrori, Dowsabcl or 
Dainc, 
Queen gold and criiiiiK! wrapj)ed oi' l)iit a sliitlisli 
kitchen queim, 
Dotli step from virtue's ])edestal into tlie slouf:;li of shame, 
Filling the hearts that loved her with liot rage or 
anguish keen, 
There mingles never in that grief the sad strange element 
Of disbelief and doubt and wild infredulous surprise, 
'Tis only as if in a storm a lily sidowise bent, 

Not that a radiant angel's grace hath fallen Iroiii the 
skies ; 
A woman liatii one way to sin, one only and no more, — 
A fragile croaluic niollilikc made for jilcasure and for 
love, 
She dares not waste uj)on the rocks, the bleak and barren 
shore. 
Tier little gilded simlit hour, but reckless soars above 
To flutter for a moment where the fire-re<] |)0|)pies flaunt. 
Where soon the filmy wings are scorched, the tiny feet 
are seared, 
The sunshine fades, the garden fills with grisly shapes and 
gaunt, 
And |)unlshmcnt looms darkli('r than ignorance hath 
feared,' — 
Poor broken butterfly! our hearts have ached full many a 

time 
To see thy gauzy jiinions crushed or fury-fouled with slime, 
But never to a woman's fall is [)aid the praise that lies — 
The compliment, the tribute high— in honest shocked sur- 
prise. 



42 BAR HAM BEACH. 

But as Louise sat lost in thought, and fi'om her loosened 
clasp 
Let the child settle to the sand in deep and deeper sleep, 
And let fierce Recollection's fearsome tleshless hand un- 
hasp 
Pandora's box where horrid thoughts did dart and 
crawl and creep, — 
Oh, to Louise it seemed the worst wild imjj of all the 
horde — 
The blackest bottom drop of sweltered venom — e'en 
was this. 
The wonder, the amaze that he, her master and her lord. 
Who years ago had sealed her his with a long lover's 
kiss, 
That he, even he whom she had sworn to honor as her Head, 
Who seemed in sooth a hero girt with lightnings high and 

dread. 
Her sovereign, prince, director, next to very God indeed, 
Was an ignoble mongrel cur of a detested breed ! 



'Tis pitiful when desperate and faint a man will clutch 

At bread or fruit or food's equivalent, a bit of gold; 
We pardon the white wretch's crime, for Nature will do 
much 
To keep the soul embodied and the starving bodj' 
souled; 
But when for mere externals, luxuries and baubles vain. 
For the vile froth and spittle of the sick inglorious time. 
For refiise which philosophers and poets but disdain, 

When for this outward scum of life a man in filth and 
grime 
Doth steep himself, what single palliation may be made? 
That right is right and wrong is wrong we surely know; 
but yet, 



BARHAM BEACn. 43 

Less hixrmful doth it seem to all, less must the soul degrade 
To filch an orauge just to soothe a baby's fever-fret 
Tlian to break faith with thousands, to betray a city's trust. 
To scorn the ditcher's sweated hoard and scatter it like dust, 
To turn the helpless old from home, to make the dying 

weep. 
To strip the children, sending them to cold and hungry 

sleep, 
To squander on one Roman night the gold a youth had 

saved 
To tide him o'er the gleaning years of thought his spirit 

craved. 
And a maiden's shield 'gainst poverty insanely down to 

beat, 
Careless that she for refuge must seek either stream or 

street. 



The little silver fortresses these trusting souls had built, 
And given to the keeping of a seeming honest hand, 

Had crumbled, tottered to their fall upon the shifting silt. 
Founded, alas! not on a rock, but in the treacherous 
sand. 



Thief - liar- robber- cheat! — The wife felt all her senses 
swim 
E'en as the words, familiar grown, did shape them- 
selves once more ; 
There surged within the syllables a horror vast and grim 
Which the gorge rose at, while the eyes with salt sick 
tears brimmed o'er. 



44 BAKUAM BEACH. 

She could remember how her life, smooth, soft, had come 

to be 
Still smoother, softer, from the faintest smirch or shadow 

free, — 
She could remember wondering how Lance had dared to buy 
Such diamonds to gem her hands as stars the wintry sky, — 
'JMien had come rumors — how she fought those dragon 

rumors down ! — 
That toadlike swelled and winked and leered, and leaped 

across the town, 
Eumors of other diamonds starring false wliite alien hands, 
And of a merry game that's played with loose-leaved rosy 

bands, 
Not with strict Hymen's narrow cirque of virgin gold, a 

game 
Of mad extravagance that ends in black cyclonic shame, — 
Then like a thunderclap the journals launched their javelins 
On Lance's life and dragged to light a hundred hiding sins. 
And he was hated! liated so that even in the street 
Upon herself and little child deep imprecations beat 
From men that he had beggared, and she heard them sneer- 
ing say 
"Look at the seal and velvet garb for which our earnings 

pay!" — 
Then the slow process of the law, the feints, evasions, fears. 
The verdict, "Guilty!" the sharp stroke of doom, "For 

twenty years!" 
Tlien the crowd's jubilance quick-stilled, the low approving 

note. 
Then a gray fog that chilled her heart, a climbing in her 

throat. 
Her husband's bending, anguished face, wild-eyed, with 

ashen cheeks, — 
Then, merciful oblivion for long, long lotosed weeks. 



VI 



VI. 

T'r was eve,— 'twas the liour when the Angeiiis, riugiug 

Soft o'er the streamlets and low o'er the leas, 
Sang of rest to the weary earth, censerlike swinging 

Paljjitant blessing and balm on the breeze,' — 
Sweetly it chimed over Barham Beach, bringing 

Peace for a moment to stricken Louise. 



'Gainst a pale yellow sunset she stood, careless leaning 

Where rustic and lichened a gnle barred the way. 
And on either hand pine trees were black damascening 

The western expanse primrose golden and gay, — 
Ebon black was her robe, but great poppies went straying 

Golden, magnificent, over its sheen, 
Dark as midnight her liair gloomed, and ringlets were play- 
ing 

Round the gold comb like the crest of a queen, 
And the black of her eyes was what one in the gloaming 

Sees in a fern-feathered wood-fountain's deep, 
A black where yet late little glints go a-roaming 

Ere night's nursing tenderness rocks them to sleep, 
And so staglike the lift of her head was, so stately 

The fearless straight glance and her whole haughty 
grace, 
One had mot her with homage, nor deemed that but lately 

She had writhed in the modern rack's iron embrace. 



There are seasons when nulled is all power of sensation, 
"When spirit and substance have fretted so long 

Frayed out for the nonce are alike indignation, 

Grief, horror, and hope, and the sting of shame's thong. 



48 BARHAM BEACH. 

And the weary sad soul saith "At last it is over,- 
Now I shall rest, since I never again 

Of rapture shall sip as the bee of the clover, 

Nor smothering sink in the mire of the fen!" 



If ever, mortal, thou finds 't thyself riven 

Of that which hath hitherto made up thy life, 
If destiny hath like a hurricane driven 

To shreds all the projects with which thou wert rife, 
If fainting, disheartened past weeping, thou carest 

Not to crawl on o'er the desolate land. 
Fear not ! God is merciful ! haply the fairest 

Dayspring and dream of thy life is at hand! 



So Louise, as she stood with the sunset gold-crowning 

All her sweet womanhood there by the gate, 
Forgot for the moment the strangling and drowning, 

Felt her soul emptied of love and of hate,^ — 
They were utterly gone, she felt, even departed. 

As were the gossamer seeds of last year, — 
What should come later, then? what if there started 

Grain for an aftermath precious and dear? 
"What if she learned to live nobly? — grew braver. 

Reached up to God past the low loves of earth? 
Could a woman do this, as a man can, and save her 

Soul from hell-fire as a brand from the hearth? 



Nay, for the ditTerence, deep, everlasting. 
As of old 'twixt the sexes abideth today. 

Not to be altered by fuming or fasting, — 

ranters! cease striving to prate it away! 

Man is to himself self-sufficing, sustaining, 
Lord of the empire of will and of mind. 



BAJUIAM BEACH. 49 

Needing:; no womanly aid, half disdaining 

The rapture that but in her arms he can find, — 
If noble, then noble because of inhering 

Faculty, calling, election divine. 
If wicked, no feminine foe can come leering 

"This poor devil's fall's an achievement of mine!" 
No, never! for man to himself staudeth, falleth. 

Trembles at no human governor's nod, 
Weeps alone and grows strong; and, praying, he calleth, 

None intervening, himself upon God. 



"While for us: Men are marble,, and we arc but mastic, 

Things to be malaxed like wax or like gold, — 
A woman is good or bad just as the plastic 

Soft chiy of her nature curves under man's mould, — 
Full apt of iinpressure is woman, a creature 

Made to receive much and little to give, 
A copyist faithful, a learner, no teacher, 

A crypt for love's logic, for aught else a sieve. 
Who can know but few things, and these scarce worth the 
knowing, 

AVho e'er since the age prehistoric began 
Ilath donned her pontificals just for the throwing 

Idolatrous incense and worship to man, — 
Worship, forsooth! it is God we should duly 

Adore, and not man ; but this one is the worst 
Of our foibles, — that woman ne'er worships God truly 

Unless the low human love f aileth her first ! 



Yet e'en as a woodbine whose oak, thunder-cloven, 
Lies blackened and perishing, prone in the wood, 

Strives up, struggles out from the ruin inwoven, 

And helplessly reaches toward aught that withstood 



50 BARHAM BEACH. 

The shock of the tempest, so woman, heart-broken, 

Longs for a brotherly clasp of her hand, — 
Not God, Oh, not God! merely one who has spoken 

With Him, who but echoes His utterance grand; 
So 'twas well for Louise, in this first dim uplifting 

Of sad darkened eyes to the Power out of sight. 
This first feeble touch to the rudder, this drifting 

Eather by chance than intent toward the right, 
That a messenger onward came riding, slow rifting 

Straight through the aureate vistas of light. 



Onward he musingly rode, scarcely seeming 

To note if his steed were a laggard or swift. 
As a \'ictor-knight rides from a tourney, soft dreaming 

Over the beautiful Queen and her gift. 
With his gaze on the Occident, glowing, Elysian, 

Where forge-fumes of Titan deep-glorious rolled, 
Till sudden he saw her, a wonder, a vision, 

All in her panoplj- sable and gold. 



'Tis not often a man in his first careless glancing 

Flung to a never seen feminine face 
Findeth not only a hundred charms dancing. 

Fluttering, faylike, around her sweet grace, 
Findeth not only all this but perceiveth 

That even already the womanly heart 
Hath discerned of his need, and that need swift relieveth, 

Sisterly tender, not cloistered apart 
In austere chilly depths of reserve ; but this rider. 

Traversing slowly the pebble paved sand, 
Saw that this lady when first he espied her 

Served like the lowliest lass in the land. 
For her delicate fingers were silently swinging 



B ART! AM BEACH. 51 

The great stubborn gate tlmf divided Ihe ]ane, 
So he might pass, if he chose, without springing 

DowTi from liis liorse to rive padlock and chain,— 
An<l 'twas much that her face where the sun's strong re- 
flection 

Singh>d no blemish 'gainst honor and truth 
AVas proud -with its high haughty sense of perfection, 

And rich with tlie corals and contours of youth, 
But 'twas more that she helpfully thought of liim, — sweetly 

TTad watched him advance ere lie looked in her eyes, 
More, that she toiled for him, faithfully, featly, 

E'en such a space as a meteor flies. 
And courteous he thanked her, his sentences ringing 

Resonant, masterful on the soft air, 
Then carelessly down from his handsome horse flinging, 

Took from lier fingers their seneschal's care. 
And then he stood smiling, bareheaded, calm pleading 

Community e'en as of mariners wrecked, 
Since strange astral forces their feet had been leading 

Till they should here at earth's end intersect, — 
Yes, he smiled, and Louise thought 'twas something worth 
living 

For, morel}' the seeing and sharing that smile, 
Deemed him blest among men, since he might go on giving 

Such "Benedicites" mile after mile 
All along the dark road to the meanest of creatures, — 

How the clear siiirit flashed lucently through 
The pale porcelain lamp of the cameo features, 

Cyclamen perfect, of ivory's hue! 



Yes, he smiled, and remounted, and onward went riding, 

Turning to wave ere he passed out of sight. 
And the woman stood long while tlie shadows came gliding, 



52 BARHAM BEACH. 

Smoothing the way for the dark sultan, Night, 
Stood alone 'neatli the murmurous pines, yet not lonely. 

Nor burdenel and banned with her memories vile, 
For present and past in one consciousness only 

Were fused, a strange marvelous dream of a smile! 



YIl 



VII. 

A NT) tin- tlrt'iiiii liiif^LTt'd still wlioii tlio gibbous rod ure 

Of the slow lagging niooji cleft the resinouH dark 
And slioue o'er the sea us a crimsou-soaked path 
Fierce (ire-darting Odiu had traversed in wrath, — 
Lingered still when tlie faint silver spangles and few 
That earliest peeped in the tremulous blue 
Hud married and multiplied, striven, grown strong, 
And made all the firmament glad with their song, — 
Lingered still when she sought the low hunibh! abode 
Where a light from the easement a warm welcome glowed, 
Where the creepers were garlanding window and wall. 
And a willow drooped lovingly down over all, — 
And the dream tangled deep in the mesh of her hair, 
And merged when she knelt in the words of hci- jirayer. 
Ami when by her baby's she pillow(!(l her head 
To a vision of sleep was the waking dream wed. 



She was lying, she thought, where the weltering wave 

Kolled ravenous up to the mouth of a cave. 

The sand at its portal all trampled, strown thick 

With dark clammy drops at whose touch she turned sick, 

Its depths coldly bright with the semblance of stones, — 

Ah Qod ! 'tis a face — no, a skull — they are bones I 

And she wist not how ever she came in that place, 

For scarce could a chamois or eagle find space 

On the cliff that rose ominous, beetling and scarred, 

Snarlingly keeping invincible guard,— 

And her robe was the pop))icd black, golden of brede. 

Heavy with wave wash, and fih^d with gray weed. 



56 BAKU AM BEACH. 

And suddeu the wiud set its teeth with a gnash, 

And the chock of the sou whitened under its lash, 

And a murderous mist wrapped the sun in a sliroud 

And stifled his struggles in cloud upon cloud. 

And the gulls fled afraid in the gloom; yet the light 

Abiding too clearly, too plain sliowed the sight 

That uprose, was belched out of the shuddering wave 

As frantic an earthquake might fling from a grave 

Pollution made visible, flesh-fretted Jaws, 

Bared fangs, eyeless sockets, white tigerish claws. 

With a vast cruel strength to consume and despoil, 

And a horror unnamed in its serpentine coil. 

And she'screamed and God heard her, for lo ! on the height, 1 

Majestic, self-sliedding a glory of light, 

Stood Michael the 8aiiit! And he shouted on high 

And stripped off the veils from the sun in the sky, 

And the scales of his armor were glittering gold. 

Dazzling and splendid, superb to behold. 

And his crescent curved pinions were snowily pure, 

Full strong to uplift, to aspire, to endure. 

And he plunged to her rescue, — swift, headlong, he came, 

And the wind of his wings was as rushing of flame. 

And the sapphiriue flash of his terrible eye 

Was as lightning that riveth the blue summer sky, — 

And his sword circled over, and deadly it fell. 

And she heard a calm summons: "Look up, — all is well!" 

And he stood, a serene lofty light on his brow, 

And she was transformed, though all ignorant bow, 

YoY slio saw that her ruined robe glinnuered to white. 

And that even as he golden-fair in her sight 

Stood peerless, lier body and spirit had grown 

Beautiful, radiant, matching his own. 

And she said, "0 my hero triumphant and true, 



B Ann AM BEACTI. 57 

savior, Imfli Clod iii.kIc me like unto you? 

Are we brotlier and sister, then, master uiid cliild* — " 

And be bent over lier, bent down and smiled! 



And sbe woke. It was dawn; the child feebly had cried, 
And its moan li;id mixed close with the moan ol' llie (ide, — 
'Twas a ghastly gray morning,— a giiost rmgcsn-d rain 
Wailed and des])aired and beat wild at the ])ane, — 
And she soon bushed the child; but the heart-broken sea 
Sighed liuskily on, "Not to be,— not to be!" 



VIII 



VIII. 

ttK.SlDI'j tliu isilver sea they sat at eve, 

Bathed in a pale sweet amethystine glow, 
Watching the billows' languorous slow heave, — 

AVhen sank the sun that did not find them so? 
Calypso and Ulysses in their isle, 

Lone rocky coign amid tlie howling main, 
Not more depended on each other's smile 

For human comradeship than did these twain, — 
Mornings they paced for hours the lirm brown marge, 

Salt-sprinkk'd, shelly, flecked with crims(m weed, 
Deep, deep immersed in thouglit, discoursing lai'ge 

Of rampant evil and of mortal need ; 
Noontides they sought the dim and bosky wood 

Where vines laced intricately overhead, 
And there some rhyme of regal womanhood, 

Some tale of knightly quest alternate read; 
Often they lingered on the wheatfield's brink, 

And heard the scythe-blades' merry carillon, 
And quaffed each other's health in harvest-drink. 

And cheered the beaded brown armed reai)ers on; 
And oft they marked the melting pearly sails 

Slow drifting on athwart the purple sea. 
And dreamed what cassia sweetness, silken bales, 

What Asian riches might the cargoes be; 
And when delayingly they homeward went, 

'Neath the keen stars and silver-sifting moon. 
Flute-like and organ-like their voices blent 

In "You'll T?omeniber!" or in "Ronnie Doon," — 
And if the night were dark, and veiled the way, 

Close clung her fingers to his thrilling arm, 



62 liAhllAM JULiCll. 

Atid slowly, sIdwIv ilid llu'ir footsteps slrny, 

liolli 1(1 coiiclinlc such foolisli sweet iihiim, — 

.\iiil niicc nl |i;irtiii!;' lie lind s.'iid "(Joodniuflil, — 
1 low lii;i\ (' ;iiii I, 111; it hiller word to si\y !" 

And slie Inc.'il hed low, "O I'l-ieiid, llie new found liKld 
I li;i\ (• I'roui II ice IniiK'l !i llic nii;lil to d;iv !'' 



'I' I icy s;il, this h.-ihny e\ <> ol" late .1 illy, 

\\'hil(- the <lcc|. <l_Ncs lh;it tinctured ;ill the West, 
<iold i;r;iilin:;' o]iiilent lli(> nihy sl<\', 

(ii'cw the dnrk iris of ii wood dove's l»n>;ist, 
Sol'l r.'idinu; to ji sen l^iiII's silver jijniy, 

And these sweet silent chnn,u;es soeiucd to plcid 
'riiiil the rapt w.'itclicrs, so'eMm still Jis they, 

Should hold I'l-om ;in\' tri\ial word or deed. 



I/i,<.rhl r.iilcd; th(> lustrous ])!i,ir(>iuitry w;is o'er, 
^'et still Louise s;it nioveless, lost in Ihoiii^lit, 

And lliniiin.!;- olT I h(> stillness, ThtMidor*^ 

AskiMJ of the hroiilcries her lirnin li;id wrouii'lil. 

Kut she. ash;inied, sinc(> all her tlioui'ht had heen 

Milt of ;in old world woven rune of love, 
or (luinevere .Miid all her spliMulid sin, 

'i'lie l>;iseiit>ss ninl the brilliancy lltereof. 
And of the (pi(>stion wliidher it AV(M-e best 

l''or lily ni.aids to fade in vir.';in bud. 
No leji]>iii,si heart throbs ripeninir the lire.-ist, 

No rosy .ardors reddening' the bloo<l. 
Or happier to blossom as i\ rose, 

A lauirliinir rose t\i)d joyous in the sun, 
That liberal .and i,'oldcn hc.arted tbrinvs 

Abn>ad the swei>ts that it o[' I'\ate h.atli won, — 



]{ Ah- II AM III: AC II. 63 

W'liolluT Mwcro hosi In luxe oni'c not ;il ;ill 

Or twice indeed ('oiild then ;i woiii.iii Iwico 

J'le born? could she lliiil, Kfti iii^' of youlh recall, 
Apjiiii (he lioy '^iuVn ciireleHH Jiirri enlico? 



I'>mI sore iisli!iiiie<l of ;ill these imisin^H I'oTid, 

I.oiiise reve.'iled them not to 'riieiMlore, 
l\'n<i\\iri/x liow sle.'idl'astly he wititred Ix-yond 

{•'aiiil \\<iiii icri'aiiis that iclf U<v liiirdni lini-e, 
And she Iml answered, "Asi<e(| yon wliat I tiioniclii? 

Ah, thon/^ht's a process from which wdnicn shrird<,- 
Wo liarlior tinselled visiotis fancy franj^lit, 

Hnt nevor does a woman trnly thitdc! — 
'Tis otlmrwiso, yon know, O fiictid, with )iien, 

Whose minds may sink or soar with steady sweep, — 
Tell me yonr shallowest slif^hl impulse, then, 

It hath more value than my inmost fleet)!" 



"Ever self wronpinfjc? F'.ut my thou;<ht was this; 

Tfow the ^reat cities, and (hat |iroudes( oru- 
Of all, into wlioso soethinf^ foul ahyss 

[ hurl myself like Ifonui's sultlimes( son, 
Tfow llipy doHCon<l and pause upon the ver^o 

Of tills same sea, this salty cleansing;: hrine, 
'i^liat l)eats forever with its niiKldy surj^cf, 

Shoulinp: of victftry and stn^n^^di divino, — 
And Oh! 1 asked from out my weary sonl 

If everlasting CJod could find no force 
To (urn into encli vermin-luiurded hole 

This awfid current's j)urifyin<^ course, 
BcHominK f>iil Hi'' niillion oozy thiu'^s 

Quick l)r(!erlin^' in eadi loathly noismiie den, 
Ancient corrnptions and old ulcer slings, 



64 BARE AM BEACH. 

And all that burrows in the flesh of men, — 
Is there no way, God, to wash and sweeji 

The crusted filth that festers to gangrene, 
To loose my citj^'s limbs from sottish sleep, — 

No way to cleanse and cure that fallen queen?" 



Then he fell silent, and the woman fixt 

Far on the sea-rim dry indignant eyes. 
Burning with shame to think her life had mixt 

With one who held that city otherwise, 
Taught her fresh harlotries, ignored her jiain, 

Low as he found her left her trebly worse, 
Sluiced deep into one sound gold-bleeding vein. 

Became the chief incarnate civic curse, — 
Thank God, he should be punished! Years on years 

Had he to languish in his darkened cell. 
Beset with red remorse, with leopard fears 

Lest dogging vengeance send him thence to hell, — 
Ah, Ah! Far keeper, see the ankle-chain 

Bites deep and deeper, even to the bone, — 
Smite thou the lips into a crimson stain 

That laughed until the universal groan, — 
And let him labor! Let the wax defile, 

The tough thread cut those lily hands and sweet, — 
Teach him to sweat, slow fashioning the while 

The poor coarse garb for honest humble feet ! 



Yet ah! as Time should slowly onward creep, 

Chastised should crime be, evils righted, — yes! 

The cheated folk once more their gold should heap, 
But she, the wife, had hope of no redress, — 

AVhat had he made of her he dared to wed? 
A puppet to display his thievish gains ! 



BARHAM BEACH. 65 

Her very irame was fonncil of stolon bread, 

Dishonorable blood slunk through her veins! — 
How he had slighted her, i)Oor fretting fool, 

How merely tolerated her oaress. 
Flying, as doth a lad let out of school, 

To find elsewhere his real happiness, — 
And Oh, her soul, that was as maiden snow 

Ere he had smirclied it with his sooty own. 
Now in the muddy ditch was lying low. 

Its pristine lofty clarity o'erthrown; 
She had no yearning for the things of God, 

Nor could with noble aspirations mate. 
Cared not to tread the paths that saints have trod. 

Bankrupt of love, but ^ridas-rich in hate; 
AVhat had her life been since that awful time? 

Had she not deigned to profit by his sin, 
Nor striven from the moral slough to climb, 

The filthy stew he flung and left her in, — 
Were there not sparkling now upon her hands 

Diamonds that were as sweat and tears congealed. 
And angry emerald eyes of pauper bands, 

Rubies, red drops from wounded hearts unhealed? 
Had she not praised the juggling skillful swords 

That clashed for her in later legal theft, 
Owned she not even now bright secret hoards 

Whereof no earthly power could leave her reft? 
That was her soul, then! such a rotten thing 

As carrion breeds, at which the gorge doth swell, 
A worm, an eyeless maggot — what the king 

Of all the lost would scorn to house in hell ! 



She rose in silence, silent slipped away 

Through the sea-shadows and their salt perfume, 



66 BARHAM BEACH. 

Weak-pitiful her V)ody seemed to sway, 

And Theodore swift followed through the gloom, 
"Not going, friend ?"^ — "Yes, going, and alone, — 

i heard a voice that loud and louder grew, 
Till now it roareth to a thiiudor-tone, 

Swearing I am not fit to bide with you, — 
Oh, Theodore, my soul is sick with hate — 

Hate of that one who laughl me how to love — 
Jlate of uiy child — his child! on whom a weight 

Hangs leaden-heavy, — hate all else above 
Of this myself, this wretched mongrel I, 

Who have blushed only at mine outward shame, 
Bui now self- judged and damned am like to die, 

Transfixt by cruel conscience' mortal aim!" 



But Tlieodore clasped brotherly her hands. 

And soothing strove to guide her toward the light, 
Long pacing to and fro the quiet sands, 

While the Great Wain slow rumbled out of sight, 
And ever as slic blamed her darkened will, 

And ever as she said "Let be — let be! 
I am not worth tliy pains!" he answered still, 

"I have helped others, shall I not help thee?" 



And when she left him, long he strolling mused 

On the mysterious dim ways of Fate, 
Who had his weary wonted tasks refused. 

Decreed the fierce loud stress of toil should 'bate, 
Just for this summer, just the special hour 

When this one woman had such deadly need 
Of counsel, when with archangelic power 

lie for her fighting soul might intercede, — 
According to the turning of the scales, 



BARHAU BEACH. 67 

She shoulfl go biased fortli for wronj;' or right, 
I Ifiicerorlh a creature of miasiua-dales, 

Or dwelling willi proud eagles on the height, — 
Siie should go forth a potion-brewing witeli, 

Cankered and soured, a tiling of s])ite and sneers, 
Meet for light loves and envy's eating iteli. 

Sowing dissension broadcast down the years, — 
Or else she should go forth a gracious queen. 

Noble as fair, most perfectly controlled 
To high clear purposes, whose calm serene 

White brow should be with sweetness aureoled, 
A woman to whose lips inspiring speech 

Should be germane as odor to the rose, 
Whose tender smile should its recipients teach 

Something of warm soft love the nestling knows, 
"Who should account it privilege to give 

Her life to hush her IVIlow creatures' cry, 
Helping besotted misery to live. 

And helping it, forespent and faint, to die. 



And did this awful <liaiic(^ of life and death 

Lie truly in his hand to make or mar? 
He bared his head, and drew a solemn breath, 

And upward looked, where star on shining star 
The mighty universe piled overhead, 

And outward looked he, where tlie sullen deep 
Uttered its menace fathomless and dread, 

Rolling forever in resistless sweep, 
And inward looked he, to his inmost heart. 

That beat in poignant altruistic pain, 
Seeming to be not of God's plan a part. 

But even as it did the whole contain. 
The height, the depth, to-come, and long-ago, 



68 BARE AM BEACH. 

All silver spires of ixnimagined bliss, 
All nadir-deeps, iinplummeted, of woe. 

The future's })iiina('les, the past's abyss, 
And of a sudden all these things were less 

To Theodore, less the whole human race, 
Than just to hear one nighted soul confess 

"God is, and I dare meet Ilim face to face !" 



IX 



rx. 

]^ O iiHuion of justice iutreuclied, no plutocrat's tool 

was he, 
Not one to cry out to the people "Be patient till Death 

makes you free I ' ' 
No, for be Imew that patience and prayer had centuries back 

been outworn, 
Lying spells that had worked no change in things monstrous 

and not to be borne, — 
No, for he blazed with the fury of love for his mocked and 

downtrodden race, 
And strenuous strove to bring it about, the second redemp- 
tion's grace, — 
No, for he laughed in his throat at the ])itiful failure of 

State, 
Of Knowledge and Power and Church the national crimes 

to abate, — 
No, for he felt in his soul that the beautiful earth belonged 
Just to the common people, befooled of it, cheated and 

wronged, — 
What! should he seal up his vision against the appalling 

fact 
That close to America's money centre lieth a hopeless tract 
Of poverty all as degrading, as brutalizing to man 
As ever rotted and stank upon earth since earth's existence 

began, 
That in cannonshot e'en of the slender spires and under the 

golden domes 
The poor are huddled to fester and faint in their fetid and 

feverstruck homes. 
That palaces gilded and floating and fine of multifold mil- 
lionaires 



72 BAKU AM BEACH. 

Glide by the wharfrats starveil, haH'-nakeu, and uuuib on 

the water-stairs, 
That near to a banquet Lucullian, rose-rich, where the wine 

free floweth as rain, 
There be those who are dr()\vniii,i:C in < iKircoal funu's their 

hunger and uttorless pain. 



Yes, other causes there possibly were; distantly had he 

heard 
Of efforts and zeal on trivial grounds, of cleanlier pools 

upstirred, 
But for him there was only this one, nor could be, and all 

of his life-blood ran 
In one straight channel, a passionate force in the battle of 

man against man, 
Man with only his body 'gainst man with a godlike brain 
And iron will and the habit of rule and his faculties keen in 

train 
To do his bidding, and over all this the power to have and 

to hold 
The master-key, to serve and be served by tlio national 

deity, gold,— 
All, the unequal conflict, the cruel preposterous odds! 
On the one hand, wealth with its mocking laughter as of 

Olympian gods. 
Its arrogant calm supremacy, its level and dominant eye, 
The master's glance that makeili the lioinid cringing and 

whining to lie, — 
On the oilier hand, man in the agony of the shelterless 

Christ at the door, 
AVhose pitiful i)atient silence or whose clamorous deafening 

roar 



UAliUAU BEACH. 73 

Alike were a cry that pierced its way deep into Tlieodore's 
soul, 

As a white-hot iron stinging and lashing him on to a deiinite 
goal,— 

A cry upswolling and fierce, a terrific stentorian demand 

Of the workers for that wherein they have wi'oiight, of tiie 
laborers for the laud, 

A plea that the trampled millions at last be allowed to pro- 
duce 

The common things of which they have need for decent 
advantage and use, — 

A series of burning questions that go unanswered from year 
to year, 

That courts and pulpits and press unite in not seeming to 
hear. 

Yet questions that will not down : Why are the men who toil 

To the garnering bountiful harvests losing their claim to the 
soil? 

AVhy fiom the strong to the weak are the taxes shifted and 
flung. 

The luxury of a liandfnl out of the myriads wrung? 

Why do the rich grow richer at every effortless leap. 

And the poor sink down in the quagmire, lower and ever 
more deep? 

Why are men forced to idleness, their zealous ambition 
stilled, 

While e'en at the moment from overwork women and chil- 
dren are killed! 



No, Theodore felt that a man was not sent into this agonized 

life 
Merely to save his soul and creep out of the stress and the 

strife, — 



74 BARHAM BEACH. 

He would leave his soul aud the saving thereof simply to 
Him Who had made, 

And fling himself body and spirit and mind into the des- 
perate raid 

Ou behalf of his wretched brothers, the dark disinherited 
mob, 

And be one with them, of them and for them, till liis heart's 
last passionate throb, — 

Disinherited, yes, — of fortune, of happiness, country, re- 
pose, 

Of liberty, even of life, all but life's shuddering throes, — 

Dear Heaven ! they sufifer so ci'uelly, rejiudiated of God, 

And left to the devilish mercy of the sweater's brine-pickled 
rod, — 

They crawl to and fro ou the pavement, the white-skinned 
shivering slaves, 

Scarce seemlier than would corpses be, upravished from 
cholera-graves. 

Yet, not. alas! the shatles they look: Though pallid and 
anguish drenched. 

Still aie they fiesh and blood, from whieli a profit may yet be 
wrenched ! 



It was no heathendom alien and far against which Theodore 

strove, 
No priestly Druidienl worship round altar-fires in a grove. 
No Hindoo mother's saerilice of blood of her very blood 
Aud bone of her bone anil life of her life to the Ganges' 

turbulent flood. 
But ever he sought to rescue and reach and drag from the 

Juggernaut wheels 
The bodies deformed aud dwarfed and scarred with livid 

and ulcerous weals, 



BAKU AM BEACn. 75 

Aud ''vatcbful staudiug upon the brink ol" tlie ravenous 

river of sin 
Often he held one woman's arm from pushing another in, 
And often be saved from the cannibal throats of the hideous 

mines of coal 
The tender and innocent children, or snatched from a stok- 
ing hole 
Some creature that scarce had foice for tlianks, tliat scarce 

in fact seemed a man, 
So long had it been since he freely breathed and ui)riglit 

shouted and ran,— 
Many there be who question today if such are indeed men 

at all, 
This race inferior whom we have robbed and crowded 

against the wall. 
With their simian foreheads, ophidian eyes, their tortive 

and blackening souls. 
And their weak, weak minds that visionless wane in lives 

like a gallery mole's, — • 
Yes, they are men, by Heaven ! and haply the time shall be 
That latent leonine manhood shall rouse, shall strike off its 

chains and be free, — 
Some jar shall direct the prisoned force to one critical point, 

and then! — 
Though they seem to be devils let loose out of hell, at last 

we shall know them for men ! 



But ever he raged at tlie futile force which is all that one 
man can exert 

And ever he passionate pleaded and eloquent sought to con- 
vert 

Wealth from its present attitude of a tyrant selfish and 
base, 



76 BARE AM BEACH. 

A despot cruel and deaf aud blind, usurping unlawful its 

place, 
To that which it should be, a factor tremendous to multiply 

and increase 
The sum of humanity's knowledge, its liai)i)inoss, comfort 

aud i)eace; 
Force should have Right for a master, impartial aud calm 

on its throne, 
But alas I the ignorant force of the mob for a ruler hatli 

Plutus alone, 
A Czar who deemeth the State's one function is merely to 

smite and to scourge, 
And to push back into the dungeon-deeps the victims who 

long to emerge 
And to prove the power of their citizenship, the spell of tlie 

magical ring, 
That might procure a radical change and make Uic populace 

King,— 
But, ah! with the country's eyes myopic, her vital energies 

torn 
By love of Mammon, contemptible struggles, or anasthetized 

in scorn, 
"What hope for the peaceless millions, what succor was 

drawing nigh 
To the many, while as of old the few soared safe in a thun- 

derless sky? 
And ever he stirred with eternal protest, with indignation 

divine. 
With the old crusading fury and zeal, a frenzy heroic and 

fine, 
For the people! — He gave to the peo])lc his life and his 

thought and his gold. 



BARHAM BEACU. 77 

Longing to see in the service of Miiii ilu! whole wide earth 
enrolled, 

Longing to liaston (lie Imlcyoii time when Ood shall esteem 
it good 

To melt and fuse all hatred and greed in a golden brother- 
hood. 



I 



X 



"1^ OT all unbroken was (he siiiniuer's rest, — 

Often had Theodore to haste away 
Some exigent demand, some loud behest 

Of wolf-enciroled Labor to obey, 
And one fair morning, waiting for the train 

That was to bear him to a distant field 
Where the one army, sipping its cliampagTie, 

Lounged till the other, sullen-starved, should yield, 
ITe heard the quick sliar]) tap of little feet, 

A soft robe's flutter, peach bloom pink and thin, 
And saw a woman's face all tender-sweet, 

Yet with a new resolve and strength therein. 



"Ah, yes! I Imow — I know we said goodbye" — 

She breathed, her cheeks as rosy as her gown, 
"Last night in darkness when but God was nigh, 

But you today are passing through the town. 
And will you stay an hour for Louise, 

And will you seek them out, those master-men 
Who fought for me, and will you give them these. 

And say that I have need of help again. 
All wrested gold and land to back restore. 

All which they wrought so well to now undo, — 
Oh, but they will be angry, Theodore ! 

'Tis much to ask that you should brave it through! 
And here — this casket holds the jewel-things 

In which I revelled, deeming they were mine, — 
Yes, I shall miss them, chief my pretty rings. 

But they must go, must elsewhere flame and shine, 
Even the comb it pleases you to like. 



82 BARE AM BEACH. 

Not for its golden semblature of lace, 
Merely because the sunlight chanced to strike 

On it the moment you first saw my face, — 
Well, let them float like tliistle seeds away, — 

Whoever wears them, they are mine no more, — 
'Tis the first timid step to brighter day. 

The first to being liker Theodore! 
And do not lot this fret yoii, who must bend 

All energy upon your mission high, — 
God safely speed you through your duty, friend ! 

Here is the train, and so — goodbye! goodbye!" 



Down swooped the dark enormous bird of prey, 

Pantingly paused with ominous sharp hiss, — 
There was but time some ten crisp words to say, 

To change a long glance sweeter than a kiss, 
Ere the great talons in their iron snare 

Had snatched their quarry, ere the pinions spread, 
Vulture-like cleaAnng through the shuddering air. 

And the black terror swift had onward sped, — 
And was it but the smoke-wreaths drifting high 

That mournful veiled the regal August sun, 
Or did some mystic grace that moment die 

Out of the day, and leave its charm undone? 



Louise walked slowly homeward to her child. 

And by degrees the shadow passed away 
From out the heavens, and a radiance mild, 

A still soft happiness suffused the day. 
For sweeter far than mere imthinking joy 

It is that joy at peace to contemplate. 
Free from emotions that consume and cloy. 

From breathless blisses that must bliss abate, — 



B Ann AM BEACH. 83 

'Tis not that joy is not hiilf joy without 

Gray melancholy clashes on its rose, 
Panics separative, or the chili of doubt, 

Or the sick sense that happiness must close, — 
'Tis that in absence is a gracious balm, 

A dovelike brooding of soft wings and warm, 
A noontide rest, a blessed crystal calm, 

More welcome than fair haven after storm,' — 
Love's actual i)resence is too strong a wine. 

And rather would a woman steal away 
To live in memory some hour divine 

Than overlive it verily today. 
I know not whether 'tis that fancy throws 

A perfume o'er the lily, adds a hint 
Of Arabic rich spice unto the rose, 

Giveth refined gold new gilding's tint. 
Or whether Love is such a tyrant-king 

Ilis very contact sears like lightning's flash. 
His merest touch is as a scorpion's sting. 

His glance a thing to shrink from like a lash, — 
Certain it is, if you a woman ask 

"What is the happiest hour you ever knew?" 
She will but answer, "That's an easy task, — 

'Twas a June day beside the dancing blue, 
I sat alone, too present-blest to be 

Mindful of rosy future, ruined past, — 
Alone, alone ! and whispered to the sea 

That I was loved and that I loved at last!" 



For Theodore — 'Tis the great Russian chief 
Of thinkers who doth confident maintain 

There's no such place for garnering a sheaf 
Of rich ideas as a flying troln, — 



84 BAliUAM BEACH. 

There's something in Uie mad terrifie rush, 

Tlie hard hot grinding o'er the trembling steel, 
That stimulates to sudden geyser-gush. 

To swordplay keen or to a breathless reel, 
Mysterious fibres, faeulties inert, — 

Wakes withered buds to splendid tropic flower. 
Setteth inoperative minds alert. 

And hath upon the heart a special jiower, 
For in a love of which love is but half, 

The other moiety unrest and doubt. 
In the first hundred miles' elixir-quaff 

Love waxes strong and doth his rivals rout, — 
One sees that life's a journey, and its end 

What satisfieth best the heart and brain, — 
AVitness that strongest love-scene ever penned, 

Of Anna and Alexis in the train! 



For Theodore — There were a thousand themes 

Which his attention should of right engage, 
Deep speculations, visionary schemes. 

And closer grappling coil of woik aiil wage. 
Yet every gasp as of a terrified 

Wild thing, each throb with which the wheels did seizo 
A rood of land and lling it to one side. 

For him but sweetly syllabled "Louise!" 



XI 



XI. 

J-IOWEVER equably one may support 

The first hours of au absence long or short, 
Whatever glory-gleams may flash athwart 
The gray, one longeth toward the close thereof 
To end its blank, and like a weary dove 
Fly to the home-nest and the arms of love. 
And as the greedy train devoured each mile 
Of the home journey, Theodore the while 
Found his lips ever framing song or smile. 



Wife-like she met him in the grassy road, 
Unworn, with buttercups and daisies sowed, 
Where the late scarlet shafts of sunset glowed. 
And when they clasped each other's hands it seemed 
A world more fair than ever poet dreamed, 
Rosed with a light that from mid-heaven streamed. 



The child was with her; it was strange to see 
How, sweetly and unwittingly, the three 
A perfect trinity had come to bo. 
Grouped in domestic union ; for the boy 
At sight of Theodore slirieked out for joy, 
With baby clamors for a promised toy. 
Which being given, down u})on the grass 
He flung himself, nor would he onward pass 
Till he should all its hidden wealth amass. 
And staying as Ins pleasure was, the twain 
Sank on a little clover-studded plain. 
Sweet as if Aphrodite there had lain. 



88 BAR HAM BEACU. 

"And have you missed meT' Theodore first said. 



"Why should I miss you? when I daily read 
Your doings, sayings, how your fortunes sped,- 
Ah me ! how wise you are, how strong, how f ree,- 
With all the world before you where to flee, 
Scarcely I thought you would return to me." 



"Louise! this absence was ordained to teach 

Me that the world's a ghost-world, out of reach, — 

The living, breathing world's at Barham Beach!" 



"And did you do my bidding? Give the gold 
Back to its winners ? ' ' 



"Cerberus of old 
Was not more raging-fearful to behold 
Than they when first I did the matter break. 
But valiant fought I for my lady's sake, 
And forced them down at last, and made them take 
What you had sent,— all but one trifle vain 
1 previously had ventured to distrain, 
Leaving in lieu thereof some golden grain, — 
1 could not have you utterly ungemmed, 
You whom I fain would see jiearl-diademmed, 
Your vesture cloth of gold all turquoise-hemmed, — 
Here, take it, mermaid, take yoiir golden comb, — 
How have you freed, down in your cool green home. 
Your locks without it from the weeds and foam?" 



She took it, and her eyes exultant flashed, 

But instantly two bright drops downward splashed,- 

A moment, then with tears soft laughter clashed. 



BAKU AM BEACH. 89 

There's special value in a gift far-fetched: 

Full plain it shows the farer's fancy etched 

Ever one image, though the long leagues stretched 

Between: it is to say, "On such a street, 

AVhere youth and beauty in proud concourse meet, 

I saw them not, but thought of you, my sweet !" — 

And even that high value is enhanced 

"When the donator, as this eve it chanced. 

Is one whose life hath hitherto advanced 

On loftier planes, — who hath not stooped to care 

More for poor silly baubles brittle-fair 

Than for the wee midge-wanderers of the air : 

AVhen women's gewgaws sudden seem concerns 

Of import deep, when man indignant burns 

To see a finger ringless, when he turns 

From issues national, from treading mill 

Of grinding need to remedy this ill, — 

Why, that's a pretty tribute, if you will! 



Gently she thanked him, then turned half away, 

Finding it haply difficult to say 

Somewhat she had rehearsed for half a day, — 

At last she murmured, "Theodore ! I too 

Have a surprise, a little gift for you,- — 

Yet not a gift, — 'tis only that I knew 

You would be happy if tonight I said 

All my malignancy at last was fled, 

All hatred, all ignoble rancor, dead, — 

I do forgive — if I should ever see 

]\Iy husband — • But God ! that must not be !- 

I could accord forgiveness full and free!" 



She turned to him her lovely face unflecked, 



90 BARE AM BEACH. 

Child-eager waiting to be diamond-decked 
With the praise-carcanet she did expect; 
But deeming her forgiveness at the best 
A maimed one, that too perfectly confessed 
An arrow rankled yet within her breast, 
The man was silent ; yet he knew her mood 
Had been a pit of black amaritude, 
A marish whence black vapors did exude. 
And surely she, who feebly had relvmied 
Her hope and faith where bitter darkness gloomed, 
Deserved one word of cheer ; but she resumed. 
Swiftly, "You marvel, friend, how all alone 
1 have so generous, so forbearing grown,' — 
Ah, Theodore, this miracle's your own ! — 
For, sitting day-long by the ocean-brink, 
Superimposing horrors back did shrink 
To far white nothings, and I ceased to think 
Of evil, and I reverently knew 
That 'tis a fair pure world which cradles you, 
And gradual gospels slowly pierced me through, — 
'Tis fearful that he sinned — but yet — but yet- 
Had he not sinned, we twain had never met, — 
And so I do forgive him, and forget!" 



Then Theodore extolled her, gave the meed 
Of praise for which her soft black eyes did plead. 
Full measure, heaping, running o'er indeed, — 
Then ruthless snatched the yoimker from his play. 
On shoulder poised, and homeward led the way, 
But ever to his honest heart did say, 
"Could e'en a broken thing in convict-ranks, 
Where Argus watches and the leg-chain clanks. 
For such forgiveness render humble thanks?" 



XII 



xn. 

\\/^nEN soft the midnight brooded on the sea, 

And the tired waves had sobbed themselves to sk«?i), 
"When wing nor leaflet stirred in any tree, 

And the red honeysuckle ceased to creep. 
When slumber folded all of Nature's sweet, 

Save the intoxicant syriuga-bloom. 
That like a ra])tured heart ecstatic beat, 

Pulsing and tremulous across the gloom, — 
When fainter twinked the drowsy stars on high, 

Sudden athwart the house all weary-still 
Broke a hoarse whisper, swelling to a cry 

Agonized, sharp, — "My child — my child is ill!" 



Who does not know that piercing anguished tone, 

Cutting the night serene like murderous steel, — 
Who hatli not f|ucstioned if his lintel-stone 

AVill blood-marked mercy or blank doom reveal? 
"Who hath himself not sickened as lie woke 

At the keen scourging of that outcry's rod, — 
W^io is so stubborn infidel he spoke 

No frantic jileading to Almighty God? 
Who hath not struggled 'twixt a prayer and curse. 

Struck to the heart with sudden deadly chill, — 
Who hath not deemed the utter universe 

Mere chaff and refuse — since the child was ill? 



One glance gave Theodore where poor Louise, 
Hecuba-wild 'mid all her showered hair. 

Sat with the writhing frame upon her knees. 

That senseless gasped and clutched, and fought for air, 



94 BAEHAM BEACH. 

Then down tlie creaking stair ran Theodore, 
Swift bridled, swiftly into saddle sprang, 

And cannon-swift along the road he tore. 

And loud the hoof -beats on the brook-bridge rang. 



Then straightway did the kind lionse-people come, 

A weatherbeaten venerable pair, 
Striving to rouse the mother blind and dumb 

From out her inarticulate despair, — 
Lights flashed, and soon a kindled leaping fire 

Llade of good cheer ironic red pretense, 
The water, in its liquid low desire 

To save, soon bubbled mistily and dense. 
And the good wife ran bustling to and fro, 

Anxious, alert, endeavoring to prove 
Homely appliances that might lay low 

The fell besieger, stay his onward move, 
And the man, eager too to help and serve, 

Rude comforted the mother's wild alarms, 
Telling how Theodore past creek and curve 

Already swept, past hindrances and liarms,— 
And both the old hearts ached, less for this woe. 

Less for the child and mother's reflex pain. 
Than to recall a night of long ago, 

When their poor skill was tried, and tried in vain. 



And the boy struggled bravely for his life, 

Fought hero-like throughout his soul's eclipse,^ — 

Ah, God! 'tis like the turning of a knife 

Within the breast to hear the purple lips 

Unconscious strive a single word to frame, 

"Mamma!" or "Papa!" as, if but 'twere said, 

That broken, tender, talismanic name. 



BARE AM BEACH. 95 

All the strange agony would slniight be fled! 



At hist there oame the jolt and jar of wheels, 

The hearty footstep in the outer hall, 
Then the bhiff greeting, that itself half heals. 

Encouraging, and making light of all. 
And the old doctor in his stronger grasp 

Took the convulsive clanuny little shell. 
And almost instantly a stiller gasp, 

A softer eye proclaimed that all was well, — 
Oh, to Louise it seemed that Christ again 

Had left high heaven and its perfect rest 
To walk once more the ways of wretched men. 

And loving clasped her darling on His breast; 
Yet too long had she been bereft of hope 

Not still to quiver with the ]iarted pang, — 
In the dark prison-deeps she still did grope. 

Nor wist that freedom's door wide open sprang, 
And the fierce clamors that had long been i>eut 

"Within her breast now burst to whirling speech, 
Where anguish past and sudden rapture blent 

Confusedly, partaking each of each, — ■ 
"Oh, say not, say not there's no least, least chance! 

It is not death, this sweat upon the brow? 
Oh, Lance, our baby! Oh, where are you, Lance? 

Surely you should be with us — with me now ! — 
And once I said I hated him, my child, — 

You heard me, Theodore ! But God above 
Will never stoop to venge that falsehood wild' 

By snatching from me all I have to love ! 
And do you say that he is almost well, — 

That he shall sleep and win from his repose 
Such honey sweet as from the blue harebell 



96 BARE AM BEACH. 

The brown bee wins, or from the Persian rose?— 
How strange is all our living, Theodore! 

Not till this hour have ever I been glad. 
And now I surely know that nevermore 

Aught upon earth hath power to make me sad!" 



And then with sudden laughter, sweet and low. 

Hands i)rest against her sweet heartshaken side, 
She rising turned, but had not force to go, 

Only that Theodore her steps did guide; 
He led her to a couch and made her lie, — 

Forespent was she with weary vanished grief,— 
Made her recline, and promised to sit by. 

Holding her hand, a mere wind-stricken leaf; 
But ere she slept, half cliildishly she spoke 

Haply some things were better left unsaid. 
Reserve and dignity being quite down broke, 

E'en as when standing liy the coffined dead, — 
"I'm sorry, Theodore, that T should call 

For Lance, or any one, when you were near, — 
I meant it not, for you are more than all 

The world, my knight, my bucklered hero, dear,"- 
Again: "Nor did I mean that desperate cry 

That I had none to love but just my boy, — 
I cannot sleep imshriven of that lie. 

My spirit's gold clogged with surli vile alloy," — - 
Again: "Of course I never hated him. 

My bud, my beautiful ! but pity mixt 
Defacingly with love till love grew dim, 

Its calm completeness utterly unfixt; 
The love that's pity-tarnished is a poor 

Faint travesty of what love ought to be, 
A tower of strength, steady, serene, and sure, 



BAR HAM BE ACE. 97 

Something as lofty-high as God — or thee!" 



Tlieroat slic breathed "Goodnight!" then softly drooped 
Sleep's downy wings and wrapped her deeply there, — 

Then, nor until then, Theodore low stooped, 

And with his lips scarce brushed h(>r brow and hair. 



XIII 



XIII. 

^'T'was a September iiudiiight, and the train 

Was flying through the earliest Autumn rain 
That flashed in sportive laughter 'gainst the pane 
Where Theodore leaned gazing, all his sight 
Not of the eerie mirkness of the night, 
But of an invrard vision fairy-bright ; 
A winsome face was imaged in the blur. 
And the wheels' eager strong vociferous whir 
Was as a lyric madrigal of her;— 
Once was a time when their incessant speech 
Had goaded him to succor and to teach 
The masses, blood-drained by a golden leech; — 
Well, that should be again: The poet-king, 
']\Iid other thought-pearls thus did sweetly sing, 
"There is and shall be time for everything,"— 
And Theodore, who had unselfish ends 
So long pursued 'mongst ingrates, traitor-friends, 
And slanderbolts the modern Jove down sends, — 
Sure he who had for galley slaves so toiled. 
And had in sweat and brine his spirit moiled. 
Sure he might hope to be of sin assoiled, 
If for a space Dan Cupid, cimning mage. 
Bewitched him into playing on a stage 
To a fair queen the part of simple page 
For one brief summer, — Hear me, you who read: 
In our long-leisured heaven, where indeed 
Chiefly shall vegetate, I fear, the weed 
That rots on Lethe's wharf, — in heaven above. 
Reviewing earth and all the years thereof. 
We shall not grudge the instants spent in love! 



102 BAEHAM BEACH. 

He was no fool of petty hampering care 

Of mere sense-comforts, whether foul or fair 

The homeward path down which his course should bear, 

And when the ringing shout of "Barham Beach" 

Broke on the dream where palmtree, date, and peach 

All greenly compassed him in poem-pleach. 

Little he feared the elemental play, 

But when the breathless train had rushed away, 

Redeyed and angry, hungered for its prey. 

He paused a moment 'neath the station-eave. 

Amazed that so the wind did rend and reave, 

The rain so spiteful seek to drench his sleeve, — 

Yonder, he knew, lay distant, dimpled hills, 

Nearer, the Barham woods white laced with rills. 

Nearer than all, the ocean's thunder-thrills, 

Yet not a soul in sight ; he stood alone, — 

Alone with God and storm ; his love, his own. 

Soft slept in peace — 



A sudden timid tone : 



"Eld-tortures rack his poor decrepit frame, — 
Our host, — he could not drive, and so I came, — 
But do not chide me, do not overblame" — 



For answer, he but stifled all the rest 

She would have spoken, crushed it in his breast, 

And then as might a pilgrim thirst-possessed 

Finding at unawares a little spring 

Cool in the desert down his body fling, 

Deep drinking, draughts all sweet and shuddering, 

So Theodore impetuous kissed her lips. 

Not as the fickle bee the gentian sips 



BARHAM BEACH. 103 

A careless space, then to the aster slips, 
But as one kisses who in vain hath sought 
For half a life the idol of his thought, 
And hath to her unwasted passion brought, — 
And the white rain about them globed and grew 
To a pearl-palace, and joy arrowed through 
Alike the sense and spirit of the two. 



XIV 



XIV. 

'T'WAS a gray morn — Alack and well-a-day! 

Is not the murning after always gray? 
Life is an upland where the shadows chase 
Darkly the sun in everlasting race, 
And the soft billows of clear beryl green 
Turn to the black of prismed tourmaline, 
And if a moment golden grows the grain 
Instant it sombres to a russet stain. 



Still surged the ocean, though the wind had flown 
To make in other lands its dreary moan ; 
The sand, whereon the ruin so hard had beat. 
Clogged brown and heavy round the hindered feet ; 
The scudding clouds frowned angerly and black. 
Draping low heaven with their tattered rack, — 
Often a gull's wing struck a snowy spark 
Against the smothering and sullen dark. 
Sad plained the curlew, and the awestruck waves 
Mourned of an hundred new-made ocean graves. 



Close to the sea, holding her robe away 
From pool-iDierced rocks, Louise alone did stray ,- 
Weary her eyes were, and her cheek was pale, 
And her head drooped as if all force would fail, 
And when her lover came along the strand 
Not eager foot nor quick outstretching hand 
Bade welcome, and he silent paused a space. 
Seeking the riddle of her strained wliite face : 
Not the maid's shyness nor the bride's soft bliss. 
Wife's calm, nor any sweet of love was this, 
But a dark plexure of new gain, new loss. 



108 BAH II AM BEACU. 

Hemlock and i\^ round a martyr's cross; 
Her face was as a stone ; and Theodore 
From very awe a little wliile forbore 
To speak, but slipped lier cliilly fingers through 
His arm, and slow her footsteps onward drew, — 
Then, deep reproachful, suddenly out burst : 
''Ah, ah, Louise! and is it thus you first 
Accost me? Hath a puritan eclipse 
Shrouded the smile that plays upon your lips 
Like simlit waves? Hath but the touch of mine 
Sullied them so they may not flash and shine? 
Were then my kisses like a living lash, — - 
Turned they upon your mouth to Sodom ash?" 



She looked at him and faintly, whitely smiled, 

Patient, superior, as at a child, — 

' ' Whatever grieves me, TJieodore, be sure 

'Tis not those kisses passionate and pure, — 

No, in this world of blackest sin and night, 

Holy were they, divinely true and right, — 

Oh, Theodore, my gift of God above. 

Type to my weak, weak soul of strength and love. 

At once archangel and a prince of men — 

How if we may not ever kiss again?" 



"Love mine, this was a thing that had to be, — 

God sent us to each other by the sea ; 

You are no bounden wife : 'tis but to say 

'Let the law set me free without delay,'— 

Then the whole land shall know that you are mine, 

Ah, now at last your sweet lips smile and shine!" 



"Yes, dearest, — haply you are right, — T know 



BARHAM BEACH. 109 

Last night I deemed it could not but be so, — 

Half waking, half asleep, I dreamed a dream 

All of sweet nothings in a stcUar stream; 

] thought that we were wed, and that our home 

Was fathoms deep beneath the ocean foam, 

Coral the walls, the floor mosaic shell. 

The ceiling pearl, where many a milky bell 

And ruby boss were formed of strange sea-flowers, 

And tlie child was no longer mine but ours,— 

So foolishly I dreamed, until my bliss 

Awoke me to the memory of your kiss." 



Silent she fell and struggled to retain 

Comi^osure and a mastery o'er pain, 

But soon resumed, "Alas! The morning mail 

Descended as the hot relentless flail 

Falls on the luckless grain, that erst so fair 

Swimg and coquetted in the golden air, 

But now lies broken, torn and indistinct. 

Its use and beauty ruthlessly dislinked, — 

I would I loved a slighter, smaller soul 

Than thou art, one less able to control 

The rampant self within, for Oh! I fear 

Thy righteousness, thy dark stern justice, dear!- 

But you must have the letter, — take it, — there ! 

'Tis in my handkerchief, — I cannot bear 

The paper's actual contact." 



Theodore 
Snatched up the missive, avidly out tore 
The meaning, clenched and crushed it in his hand,- 
x\. lightning stroke's not hard to understand! — 
Then wordless walked away. 



no BARE AM BEACH. 



A woman seeks 
Some one to witness her wet eyes and cheeks, 
Less poignant suffers, groweth almost calm 
'Neath the cool sympathetic oil and balm; 
But man wears through his dark and bitter mood 
In unshared anguish, decent solitude, 
So Theodore, the letter in his hand, 
Paced out of sight along the wave-washed sand. 



And to Louise the ocean's cannon-boom 
Solemnly voiced irrefragable doom. 



XV 



5V. 

TF there is in the turmoil chaotic and drear, 
The sterile sick waste of this lunatic sphere, 
One wise regulation, one blessed decree, 
With which doth the present scribe fully agree, 
'Tis the bondage of woman, — the dictum that free 
As a man or an eagle she never shall be, — 
'Tis true she possesses a separate mind 
And physical structure, and some have opined 
That her nature, like man's, is a tripartite whole. 
And includeth a single responsible soul; 
Bo that as it may, still the fact doth remain 
Undeniably sure that a man may disdain 
To burden existence with sweetheart or wife. 
And minus their blandishments live out his life 
Sanelj% serenely, yea, nobly withal, 
While a woman — Have not you at eve heard the call 
Of the wood jiigeon unto her absentee mate 
With its passionate pleading, its heartbreaking freight 
Of lament? Even so, there existeth no maid, 
Gold crowned or gray misted, whose heart is not swayed 
By even such need as the dove's note displayed, 
Who faces life's gloaming alone, unafraid. 
Who feels not the world is bereft of its charms, 
Is but valueless frippery, save as the arms 
Of a lover enfold her, save but as his smile 
Shall her life cordialize and render worth while, — 
It is true that some notable lives have been seen 
Of women unwed, as the great Virgin Queen, 
Bonheur, Nightingale, and a few maidens more, 
Some ten or a dozen, or haply a score, — 



1 14 BAEHAM BEACH. 

In accord with the maxim we all learned at school, 
There are brilliant exceptions to every rule! 



Yes, 'tis well we are bound; but there never lived slave 
Who did not at his fetters froth-frenzying rave, 
Nor robber who deemed not his carceral cell 
Contrived of the devil, unmerited hell, — 
'Tis the natural order that women should fret 
At the bondage thej' cannot one moment forget. 
Should fume at their crosses, should all but despair 
At the trials 'tis duty and glory to bear. 



AVoman chafes overmuch at siibjection to one,- 
But how if a mischievous wizard hath spun 
A net that no fingers but Death's shall undo. 
That holdeth her captive and creature of hvof 



It was written of old that a man shall not serve 
Two masters ; but often a woman must nerve 
Herself to the bearing a dread double yoke, 
For haply the being who earliest woke 
Her heart's yoimg affection, who still all her love 
Receives, all the rhapsodic treasure thereof. 
May not be the comrade in whom she discerns 
A soul unto which her soul utterly yearns, 
Who is more than a man, is a man deified, 
Elder brother, mahatma, and star-steady guide. 



It oft happens so, — the material bond 
Narcotizes the spirit beneath its sweet wand. 
And oft from a stranger a woman will find 
That tribute of honest resj^iect for her mind 
Which her lord never pays; it is balm, it is bliss 



BARE AM BEACH. JJ5 

To commune with a man who will not by a kiss 
Interrupt, and so shatter to fragments the tower 
Of noble aspirings to progress and power. 



AVe must smile at the wives who in innocent pride 
Aver that in marriage all potencies bide, 
All human relationships are in that one 
Encinctured, as light springeth all from the sun, — 
So it may be for them ; but it scarce seems a thing 
One would from the house-top exultantly sing! 



AVell, well, to my story : 'Tis sad when the days 
AVane weakly and die in a thick foggy haze. 
And the late garden-blossoms surrender, frost-banned, 
And we know that the end of the siimmer's at hand; 
It is sad when whate'er we have loved to a close 
Draweth on, when the season arrives for the rose 
To be plucked, to be pressed, to be withered away 
Till its fragrance is fled and its pink petals gray, 
So I linger — I linger — 



Poor wretched Louise 
AVould have sworn when that letter first traplike did seize 
On her soul that she only was boimd to one man. 
And that man not her husband; but as the hours ran 
Into days, she reluctantly went o'er the ground 
Of the past, and, revolted, incredulous, found 
She still was engirt by the galling steel mesh 
That corrodes, but drops not, till the dropping of flesh. 



But the letter— the letter? 'Twas only to state 
That executive clemency haply should 'bate. 
Not so much in respect of repentance sincere, 



n6 BABE AM BEACH. 

Good conduct, nor yet that excessive, severe, 

Was the sentence, but chiefly, nay, solely because 

Of the fact that the outrage of physical laws 

Its own punishment carries, — the State would forego 

Its right, and withdraw, nor o'erlook the last throe, — 

If her husband were pardoned, could she, too, forgive? 

Would she help him to die? or it might be, to live? 



XVI 



XVI. 

TTllEY paced the beach at eve; but of the two 

Sweet shapes who walked with them all summer through 
But one remained; frail gauzy Joy, o'erblown 
By destiny's Euroclydon, had flown 
Far to the west, though still her vesture white 
Made a soft star upon the purple night, — 
The faithful one was Love, the king of kings, 
Most piteous changed, for sad his golden wings 
Trailed down behind him, and childwise he kept 
His httle arm across his brows, and wept. 



Now, unexpected, was the season here 
For garnering heart's harvest of the year, — 
Now was the crucial hour that should reveal 
Whether to keenly think and deeply feel 
AVas all Louise from Theodore had learned, 
Or also strength to do a task she spurned. 



She could not glimpse the smallest circumstance 
That lured her — ^led her — called her back to Lance,' 
She might go if but he were sure to die, — 
But no, — that was, like all his life, a lie, 
A clever sham, — once free, he would abide 
AA^'ickedly well, till all the world had died, — 
No, — she would not, for fifty fevered years, 
Sully her soul with Lance's lies and leers. 



And the child's innocence, — the precious cliild! 
How could the mother's heart be reconciled 
To the subjecting that young ermine life 



i 

I 

120 BARE AM BEACH. 

To foul contaminations, reeking rife 

With shame? The boy would find it hard at best — 

A gnawing fox witliin lus tender breast — 

To live, his father so disgraced hid far away, — 

Intolerable, if from day to day 

He saw a monstrous Frankenstein within 

His home, a living shame, incarnate sin. 



And then herself, neglected and betrayed, 
Could she forget how impious he made 
Her and her love a city's laughing stock, 
A thing for -Vice to gibber at and mock? 
He had despised the virgin bloom he culled, 
Though naught had yet its morning lustre dulled, 
Though still 'twas fresh and dewy in the sun, — 
Had ridiculed her to that other one- 



Said Theodore, "Never since time began, 
Among the fickle light-loved race of Man, 
Lived one who jested of his wife with her 
Who might a space his pulse ignobly stir." 



A mere detail, — the issue's point was this: 

If their positions were reversed, amiss 

Her steps, not his, had strayed, — would he forgive? 

Great Heaven, no ! He would not let her live, — 

And justly, too! We do not even call 

Him who condones such faults a man at all, — 

A miserable dotard! She had heard 

Somewhere long since the strong old naming word,- 

But it was different, she knew, with men,' — 

It is ordained that o'er and o'er again 

Men may give way to appetites inflamed. 



BARHAM BEACH. Hi 



Nor be for it one tithe so bitter blamed 
As is a wife wlio reckless lets her hand 
Be but an instant by a lover's spanned; 
'Tis idle to complain ; this was the way 
Of the world-reprobate ere Caesar's day. 



But what she chiefly dreaded was to grow 
Inured to shame and be contented so, — 
A woman's weak, and in the long, long years 
Might lose the source of salutary tears, 
Might sink to slothful and soul-numbing ease. 
Might be not Theodore's and God's Louise, 
But a mere flaccid despicable drone, 
Who once had equal shared a kingly throne. 



She would not say she never had loved Lance,- 

Long had she loved him in a spiritual trance. 

Ardently, utterly; and lion-strong 

Is habit; O the horror and the wrong 

If with an Indian summer love once more 

She grew to love as she had loved of yore! 



But if she ne'er were happy, — if her life 
Were but a battle-ground of civil strife, — 
If unto death these forces still opposed. 
Still furious glared and with a shock still closed 
Each upon each? — If, leojoard-fierce, her heart 
They clawed and wrangled for, and tore apart? 



She wanted happiness, — she panted so 
Life's best elixir, rose-distilled, to know! 
Perhaps there was no heaven, no second birth,- — 
Ah, ah ! to die, when one has wasted earth, 



122 BAREAM BEACH. 

Earth and its raptiire-cliances cobweb frail, 
Its goldenrod, its lilies passion-pale,— 
Too soon the gurgling death is in the throat, — 
AVho dares push Joy from out the sinking boati 



But Theodore of course was wholly free,— 
He need not marry her, — she knew that he 
Despised her, a mere trencher morsel cold, — 
All that she asked was the peace should enfold 
Her and the child, just quietly to stay 
At Barham Beach, — or she would go away 
If he himself wished longer there to bide, 
Anywhere, anywhere in the world wide. 
Begging her way if need be, would she go, 
Excepting to her husband. 



No, Oh no! 
Could she then gi-eet him and her lips uplift 
To his, let her whole being downward drift 
To a low union, when the memory of his past 
Embraces was as a sirocco-blast 
Across her, as a rutilant dark stain 
Upon her soul, which all the leaping main 
Could never wash away? Could she endure 
To share that shrunken future mean and poor? 
Could she beside liim ramble, sing and smile, 
Stifling a prayer for liis swift death the while? 
Could she his prison-plaints full patient hark, 
Could she survive the convict's cringe to mark, — 
Could she live on, all high ambitions stilled. 
One hateful duty steadfastly fulfilled? 



Said Theodore, as when a good sword rings 
'Gainst armoi-, "Yes! You can do all these things!" 



XVII 



A long, long silence followed. Theodore, 

Heartsick with pity for herself and him. 
Scarce had the courage to urge o'er and o'er 

Her husband's plea and all her own unlimb,^ — 
Better it seemed the pardoned wretch should crawl, 

Vermin, and maimed at that, out of the sun, 
To the dark crevice of some crumbling wall. 

Alone to languish till his day was done. 
Where no sweet sound should enter, but the wind. 

In everlasting restless ebb and flow. 
Should mournful mind him of the sin he sinned. 

And of youth's ecstasies, dead long ago, — 
Better were surely this than that Louise 

Should subjugated be to life-long pain,^ — 
Than that himself be left with but the lees 

Of the red wine another's lips should drain, — 
But swift he rose superior,^ — smiled to feel 

What force dwelt in the ancient epigram. 
Which, stronger than the grip of hindering steel. 

Stays oft the robber with its "one ewe lamb!" 



She could not fathom, Theodore averred. 

What would her husband's desolation be, — 
H later by a moon or twain the word 

Had spoken been that was to set him free. 
She even, she the wife to whom he cried, 

Sole heart to whom he breathed appealing speech. 
Would have become another's laughing bride. 

Gliding forever from his frantic reach; 
He — Theodore — regretted from his soul 



J26 BAKHAM BEACH. 

Their union was not an accomplislied fact, 
The future safe from tricksy Fate's control, 

The past, a misty, dim, forgotten tract,^ — 
But no, — there yet was time and chance to poise 

. Duty imperative, its needled crown, 
'Gainst the rose-garland's scarce resisted joys, 

White Winter 'gainst rich Autumn gold and brown, 
AVhat was love given for if not to make 

Those whom it blest more selfless and more true? 
What though the heart should never cease to ache, 

So it more noble and more generous grew? 
Many there were to whom the trial fire 

Came never, whom God cared not to assay 
In the white furnace of a resined pyre. 

Whether they cringed or boldly stood at bay. 
But he and she were called, — a loud command 

Swept like a northern wind athwart the sea 
Upon their hearts, — a stern unswerving hand 

Told where the parting of the ways must be. 



Lance would emerge from duress broken down. 

No soul so poor to do him reverence more. 
Unplaced forever in the busy town. 

For him no hand outstretched, no open door, — • 
She must protect him, — she must stand between 

The shrinking outcast and the world's cold scorn, — 
She must be as a merciful soft screen 

'Twixt the galled flesh and goad of platted thorn ; 
If it were true that he was soon to die, — 

If he from prison came but to his grave, — 
It was her sacred duty to stand by 

Until the end, his burning brow to lave. 
His hands to clasp, never to let him drift 



BARHAM BEACH. J27 

Out to the fathomless dark sea of death 
Alone, but his faint spirit to ujilift 

With close affection to his latest breath,' — 
And more, — e'en as he sad and hopeless lay, 

The weary fretted tenant all but gone, 
The tyrant lusts of earth all put away. 

She must speak to him not of death but dawn, — 
Into his darkened soul she must instil 

Clear faith in God and in the after-time, — 
Tell him of the supreme Eternal Will, 

Tell him how earth's wrecked victims shall upclimb 
Steadily, surely onward, nor shall miss 

The happy righting of some future's chance. 
Shall dwell at last in those abodes of bliss 

God made for all His children,^ — even Lance ! 



But if indeed he did not die, but live, — 

If his sore illness was a cimning mask,- — 
'Twas but to say Almighty God did give 

To her a nobler and a harder task: 
To teach a loathing of his former sin. 

Not its mere consequent and bitter fruit. 
Gently to plead and tenderly to win 

Sweet melody from heart-strings rusty-mute, — 
First teach himself liimself to execrate. 

Who had so foully all his manhood marred. 
Who reckless drew on him a city's hate, 

Became a thing to be knout-scourged and scarred, 
Then help him to live down that frightful past, 

That wicked self, help him to gain again 
Not only his lost self-respect, — at last 

E'en the amazed respect of other men. 



J28 BAEHAM BEACH. 

Were her own skirts quite clear, then? were tliey free 

From smirches and from old temptation's grime? 
Alas! too many foolish wives there be, 

Whose low ambitions point the way to crime, — 
Had she been one of these? — a flippant soul 

Proud of the gaudy decking of her frame, 
A brilliant equipage her highest goal, 

A sordid overshining all her aim,- — 
Had she not been too fond of chaff and straw. 

Had she not shared what profit did accrue 
From Lance's sin? Why, then, by every law 

Of justice she should suffer for it, too! 



'Twas true, as she had said: With undue weight 

The world on women visits certain sins, — 
With the first kiss unblest of church and state 

A never-ending punishment begins,^ — 
But here the case exactly was reversed, — 

Scot-free she might escape if so she would, 
Ijeaving her partner leprous-lone, accurst, — 

This cowardice she might do — if she could! 



As for the woman Lance had wrongly sought. 

She was a creature of an outworn life. 
Vanished and melted utterly to naught, — 

Henceforth the world's one woman was his wife; 
How could an honorable wife know grief 

Or jealousy because of such a thing, 
AVhose gorgeous empire was as piteous-brief 

As is the flashing of a fire-fly's wing? 



As for the cluld, — he was his father's child, 
And Lance had to the end a natural right 



BABHAM BEACH. 129 

Tc what sweet solace, what assuaging mild 

Lay in commitaion with that spirit white, — 
It was his right to gaze within those eyes 

Which would not judge him, would not stare him down. 
His right to hear the laugh of joy's surprise. 

The welcome precious as a kingly crown, — 
His right the little soft embrace to feel. 

His right to have and hold the body sweet. 
From pure caresses and fond words to steal 

Whate'er might smooth the way before his feet. 



She must go back to Lance. 'Twas God required 

Her to perform this sacrificial deed,^- 
'Twas not that she had promised and aspired 

To love and honor, — these were past, indeed, — 
But since a wretched overburdened soul 

In last extremity and utter woe, 
In body's wasting and in spirit's dole. 

Cried out to her, 'twas therefore she must go, — 
She shrank from thrusting Joy out of the boat, 

But let joy perish, 'twas a bagatelle, 
An atomy, an inconsijicuous mote. 

Not to be counted, which 'twere more than well 
Laughing to strangle, carelessly to drown. 

If one gained opportunity to save 
Expiring hope and faith from sinking down 

Into the dusty purlieus of the grave, — 
'Tis only in the finite we can see 

The infinite ; 'tis but in human love 
Alone the pale faint mirroring may be 

Of the deep tenderness of God above, — 
When love enfolds us, God is very near, 

A gentle friend, a brother, and our own,— 



J 30 BARE AM BEACH. 

When love is banished, distantly and drear 
He looms, a white majestic carven stone. 



Lance trusting called, not trusting overmuch 

In the strong sweetness of the woman's make,- 
He, a poor lazar, whom no hand would touch 

Sooner than aid a spotted dying snake,^ — 
He called with deep unalterable love 

To her, the only human creature left 
In all the weary world and wastes thereof 

Of whom he deemed himself not quite bereft,— 
He called to her as imto God on high, — 

His written words had shaken like a reed, — 
Called with the hoarse exceeding bitter cry 

Of a doomed creature in the hour of need. 



The while of their sad talk it had grown late, — 

The midnight moon sailed silver overhead, 
Seeming to bear within her arms a freight 

Of solemn cerements for the summer dead; 
Already grief-engraven cruel deep. 

White were the faces of the wretched twain, — 
Honor invincible alone did keep 

Them severed, not a forceless broken chain, — 
Now and again a bursting sob would rise 

Up from the woman's breast and break in tears, 
And on the man's pale features and sad eyes 

The shadow lay of coming loveless years. 



At last Louise low murmured "Theodore! 

Unto my doom, to crucifixion slow, 
Lingering, inexorable, nevermore 

To see your face, love, my love! I go!" 



XVIII 



i. 



XVIII. 

POR the last time of many times the four 

Gathered about the bined and berried door 
To speed the parting guest. He clasped the hand 
Of the old farmer-fisher rough and tanned, 
And thanked him for his hope that once again 
From out the tangling knotted web of men 
Theodore might slip, and boy-like run away 
To spend with them another holiday. 
He kissed the withered cheek of the old wife, 
Whose voluble attachment was at strife 
With deep regret and sense of pending ill, 
For not so aged was she but that still 
She read the other woman's face, its weight 
Of anguish utterless and desolate. 
He held the boy upon his shoulder high. 
Who lisped against his cheek, "Bye, Doro, bye!" 
Laughing commanded him to come back soon. 
And begged as ever some thrice-valued boon. 
While the man coveted what he caressed, 
This gem a felon lawfully possessed. 
And a thought stung his eyes with angry brine, 
"But now there never will be child of mine!" 



Then to Louise he turned his latest look. 
But she back started, willful-sudden shook 
Her head, refused her hand; then, breathing fast, 
Over the sill and through the yard she passed, — 
Down to the lane and its great gate she led. 
Since where they met their parting must be said. 



134 BABHAM BEACH. 

Parting! that tells it all! If you who read 
Have parted with a dear one, known indeed 
What 'tis to hear the breeze, the billows' roar, 
The birds, the bees, but whisper ' ' Nevermore ! ' ' — 
To steal away at midnight, not to sleep. 
But brokenly through half the night to weep, — 
If the first thought that pierces in the dawn 
Is of sun-gilded mornings past and gone, — 
If the gold noontide brilliance cannot wile 
The heart from dwelling on a vanished smile, — 
If you have known all this, you have no need 
More than those pregnant syllables to read, 
"Parting!" The word hath wizard's power to call 
Out of its grave the saddest ghost of all. 



If you have never known it, that is well, — 
Fate spares you here the keenest pang of hell. 



She had a fancy, culled from tender rhymes, 
That Theodore should kiss her but three times; 
The first should be for Joy, the second, Pain, 
The third for Death, since suddenly in twain 
The thread of either 's life might sharp be cut, 
And a great stone love's sepulchre make shut, — 
Her speech he heard, but seemed as he not heard, 
Scorning her little foolish timid word, — 
What? would three kisses, only thi-ee, outlast 
The desert dearth of all the future vast! 
His lips upon hers dwelt till he forgot 
Almost that parting was their wretched lot, — 
As a last sunray in a blackening sky, 
As a man singeth on hia way to die, 
As in a churchyard blooms the myrtle pale. 



BARHAM BEACH. '35 

So were their kisses mixt of bliss and bale ; 

And at the last 'twas only poor Louise 

Who sudden fortitude and force did seize, 

Perceiving what was difficult would grow 

Impossible if long he kissed her so, 

And thrust him from her, saying "Hasten, dear,— 

Let not the weary night still find you here!" 

Of what avail to chronicle the last 

Sweet strangled utterance that 'tween them passed? 

He sprang to saddle, reckless rode away 

As to the death-bed of the sinking day,— 

But having ridden so a little space. 

Turning, he saw her stand with hidden face 

Against the gate, and all the westering sun 

Redly did gild her shape as it had done 

That day of days, that hour of hours, that first 

Ecstatic moment when a vision burst 

Upon him, when the sweetness of love's rose 

Did richly for his beggared heart unclose,— 

Drooping she stood, and there was in her mien 

All melancholy difference between 

Maidhood and widowhood, 'twixt jocund spring 

And frosty winter bleak and shivering,— 

Her attitude was as the strongest word 

Of yearning, and straight back to her he spurred : 

"Louise I I dare not go without you, love! 
Life is a hell-broth and the fumes thereof 
Are as the curling pennons of despair 
That rides me down and soon will over-bear 
My strength and faith. I do not dare to live, 
Unless, Louise, God and yourself can give 



136 BARHAM BEACH. 

Some sweetness to my spirit's daily food, 

A wholesome garnish and clear rectitude 

To what seems poisoned now. Come, let us roam 

Away together; I will make a home 

For you and for the boy; become my wife, 

Bring back sweet relevancy to my life, 

That now is hideous discordant strife!" 



Haggard she smiled: "Cold reason's overthrow 

Hath come at last then, and you cannot go 

Without me ? If I said one little word. 

Let myself be by woman's weakness stirred, 

I might be with you alway, to the end? — 

Thanks for this last complete surrender, friend ! 

But no, — too plain I saw 'twas Christlike right, 

Divine deep truth you spoke the other night, — 

'Tis my turn now, dear heart. I cannot stray 

Through wood paths with you, — duty's in my way! — 

And I have come at last to think of Lance 

With deep, deep pity, — blessed be the chance 

I have to comfort him ! — And now, goodbye, — 

In the long afterlife we shall learn why 

Fate first united, then dragged us apart, — 

God bless you, and goodbye, dear heart! dear heart!" 



Once again Theodore turned sharp away, 
"You do not love me!" all he had to say. 



At this injustice silverly she laughed, 
Eemembering how oft a shameful shaft 
Had pierced her, since too well he must have known 
She gave her heart ere she had won his own. 
"Not love you, Theodore? Well, that may be,— 



BARE AM BEACH. 137 

At any rate, note quite so full and free 

As now to dissipate and bring to nauglit 

All the high steadfastness you have me taught, 

To make tliis summer as it had not been, 

To acquiesce in Judas' hateful sin, — 

But let me closer come, — a moment wait!" 



To him she hastened through the open gate. 
Striving to speak, yet forced to hesitate,- — 
Silent she stood and stroked the horse's neck,' — 
Was it the sun, or did her own blood deck 
Her cheeks so rosily? With eyes downcast 
Like a mere maid's, she whispering spoke at last, 
"]\[y Theodore, my own! Because you had 
This impulse to return, I'm very glad, — 
Glad that one instant more than Right and Good 
You loved me, — 'tis my crown of womanhood! 
And dearer are you with this earthly taint 
Than when you seemed a high untempted saint!" 



She caught and kissed his hand, — it was withdrawn, 
Laid on her hair in blessing — He was gone ! 
Gone to a future of achievements bright. 
Leaving Louise to Barham Beach and night. 



i>. 



XIX 



XIX. 

T-IE rode ■with bent head, asking over at length 

Had it been superhuman and splendid, his strength, 
As a god's, or but as the inhuman brute force 
Of a giant, crass blindness its generant source? 
One could equably bear it, the being more strong 
Than the rest of one's race, if there did not belong 
As a penalty keen of that coveted state 
The need to be strong for all others, — to wait 
The shock of necessitous cries, — to assume 
The burdens of many, — to hasten their doom 
Or avert it, to settle their right and their wrong, — 
Ah, weary the duties of one who is strong! 



Ah, well, it was over! that sweet summer's joy 
Was put out of his life like a child's broken toy, — 
His life? could he call it a life, where misrule 
Was the one constant factor? where he, doting fool. 
Ever desperate struggled the claims to adjust 
'Twixt claimants bejeweled and matted with dust. 
And where if he left but one moment the helm 
Anarchy's tempest leaped wild to o'erwhelm, — 
Was it life, in the tumult and torment whereof 
Never he saw or should see again Love? 



He rode by the haunts she had hallowed, — the hills. 
The gold-gleaming woods with their little white rills, — 
How it had pleased her, whene'er through the dark 
A fire-fly wafted its quivering spark !^ 
On he rode, growing ever more wearily sad. 
Till suddenly out of the gloaming a lad 



142 BABHAM BEACH. 

Ban eager to meet him, to give to his hand 
A message the wires had fiashed over the land 
To Louise; he received and tore out the dispatch, 
Bead it through by the flickering flame of a match. 
Bead the ten words laconic and fateful that burned 
On his brain, and then solemnly, slowly he turned 
And rode back. 



She was still standing there in the lane, 

And her countenance, dulled and disfigured by pain, 

Lighted not when she saw him. 



"Why have you come back? 
Are you then but a galloping wolf on my track? 
When I hear the long howls and the hoofs that pursue 
Shall I look up to see it is you, only you? — ■ 
'Tis a ghost that you are, and why cannot you stay 
In the earth where heartbroken I laid you away? 
Do not touch me or kiss me, for shall I not rave 
At the feel of the chill and the slime of the grave? — 
Oh, Theodore, shameful it is and unfair 
That you come back to witness my grief and despair,- 
Would you number my sobs and the tears that I shed? 
Must that terrible parting a third time be said?" 



'Darling, I leave you no more: He is dead!" 



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